


Interview with a Writer

by calysto1395



Series: All in all [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen, Modern AU, Questionable interrogation, The rest of the series is Hawke/Varric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 11:29:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9383051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calysto1395/pseuds/calysto1395
Summary: Varric meets women in the most curious ways. Agent Pentaghast is no exception.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of many interrogation scenes I wrote while working on "Silence is Silver, Talk is Gold" that I eventually had to cut due to the Hightownfunk Exchange deadline. BUT! They are not lost, here they are. Eventually I will post all of them. Probably

The handcuffs around his wrists were the least of his problems. They were standard, easy to pick and break out. His main problem were the guards escorting him along a grey corridor, both twice his size and heavily armed. In contrast, Varric had a paperclip he had snatched earlier when nobody had been looking. Even if he did go through the effort of escaping his entourage, the layout of the building was unfamiliar and had been confusing as hell coming in; his chances weren't great. The two men shoved him into an equally grey room as the hall and onto a chair before unclasping his handcuffs. Varric had little time to enjoy the freedom before they cuffed him to the table in front of him instead.

"My safeword is typewriter." He told the guards as they stepped away from him to be ominous and silent in the background. They didn't bother to respond, so Varric decided to ignore them as well.

He tested the give of his cuffs and drummed a rhythm on the table, trying to appear bored instead of nervous. There was no reason for him to worry, in theory. Every bit of info he couldn't destroy he had hidden well, everybody who knew something was still on the run or dead. Varric had never imagined himself to be a loose end, yet here he was. 

The door opened, and hit the wall with a loud crash that totally didn't make him flinch. The woman coming in brought the same aura of authority and respect that Aveline did, but where Aveline had a slumbering kindness just below the surface, this woman was the hard cold edge of a knife. She slammed the door shut and let a heavy folder drop onto the table between them. Every fibre of her presence spoke violence. Dark eyes glared at him from a stone hard face.

Varric looked from the folder, up at the woman. "I've had gentler invitations."

The woman crossed her arms over her chest and didn't take a seat. "I am Agent Cassandra Pentaghast of the Chantry Intelligence Agency."

"Congratulations. I would introduce myself but I’m guessing I don't have to bother." He said and she looked past him at the guards.

"Leave us." She said curtly and they followed her command instantly. Varric wondered if they would ask 'how high?' if she told them to jump. Her gaze locked with his as the two men left the room, closing the door much more quietly behind them.

When she didn't open with a dramatic line, Varric felt inclined to ask, "And how can I help you on this fine day, Agent Pentaghast?"

Cassandra took her time, pulling out her chair and making the legs scrape soundly on the floor before she sat down and braced her elbows on the table. She flipped the folder open and pointed at the picture that was clipped to the inside.

"I am looking for Hawke." She said simply and Varric stared at the picture to avoid looking at her. It was a candid of Hawke in her early years working for Athenril, without the scars, the small wrinkles and the little bit of grey that had crept its way into her black hair. The woman in the picture almost seemed like a child, smiling and shoving Carver playfully, unaware of her observer.

He shrugged and leaned back into his chair as much as the handcuffs allowed. "Which one?"

Cassandra slammed her fist down on the table, succeeding at making him flinch this time. "Don't play coy with me, dwarf." She growled, and flipped a page in the folder, showing another picture. It was Hawke again, climbing into the piece of shit car she used to have with Varric himself, getting in on the other side.

Cassandra jabbed her finger at his printed face. "We know you worked together for years. That you were partners."

"It's a small city, there are only so many reliable people to work with." Varric said and laced his fingers together, causing the handcuffs to dig painfully into his wrists. His pulse was calm even if his head wasn’t. He should have expected Worthy to sell him out. Hawke and associates were on just about everyone’s shit list these days. 

"They said you were good at talking. But I am not as easily fooled." Cassandra told him, and pulled the folder to her side of the table. "You better give it your best shot." He wondered briefly where her accent came from before he dismissed any interest about her character. She had all the making of a good protagonist. If she hadn’t gotten on his bad side, he could have turned her into a hero. 

 

Instead she had become the dragon at the foot of the tower. 

 

Did that make Varric a princess? He sure hoped so. He looked marvelous in pink. 

Varric held her intense stare. "What do you want to know?" He asked, rummaging in his head. There were many ways he could spin any kind of story she wanted to hear. 

"Everything. Start from the beginning." She demanded. Her mouth was set in a grim line, hands lying on the table between them. Her broad shoulders and muscular arms where a silent threat on display. 

"Well, in the beginning there was the Maker." Varric grinned and Cassandra balled her fists. Something in her face twitched in warning and Varric put his hands up.

"Alright. The other beginning then."  He said as he leaned back. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my wonderful beta EchoedMusic!


End file.
